|
|
As if blasted by the frigid presence of the Vampire King, Bianca froze in my arms, drinking in the tableau of Talyssa walking next to Maximus, a delicate white hand resting lightly on the King’s arm.
She wore a navy gown that complemented her creamy skin. Her blond hair sparkled, a diadem placed over her artfully-arranged curls. She wore no mask, same as the King, and walked with her head held high.
Maximus was dressed all in black, including his shirt, the kerchief in his pocket, and the cravat around his neck.
The music continued, but the dancing couples came to a stop and parted a path for the King and his companion. As Maximus made his way to the end of the hall where a throne I hadn’t noticed earlier sat on a dais, he smiled and nodded at his guests as if he were some gentle lord and not a monster.
Anger as fresh as that I’d felt eight weeks ago washed over me, causing me to tremble. The urge to lunge forward and pound the King’s head into the inlaid floor assaulted me, and only Bianca’s hand tightening around mine stopped me from making a big mistake.
We had drifted out of the way, herded by the parting crowd.
I glanced down at Bianca. Her full attention was on Talyssa. She seemed hypnotized, her mouth stiff, her eyes locked. Only her hand seemed alive as it squeezed mine, her fingernails digging into my skin. I clenched my teeth, tugged gently, trying to awaken her from her stupor. But she didn’t and remained as transfixed as before.
Only gods knew what was going through her mind at the sight of her lady-help hanging from the King’s arm.
To all appearances, Talyssa seemed content. A small smile touched her lips as she walked, chin up, beautiful figure resplendent in her dress. Her blue gaze was steady. What did she feel? I had no idea.
A trembling breath escaped through Bianca’s lips as life seemed to crawl back into her. She let go of my hand. Her breasts rose up and down, betraying her agitation. I tried to take her hand again, but she stepped forward, all that she was focused on Talyssa.
The King reached the dais, climbed the steps, then turned to face the crowd. He greeted us, his expression all glamour and manners, a well-honed lie by a practiced monster. The guests beamed up at him, the ladies curtsying and blushing, transfixed by the vampire’s charm, while Talyssa stood next to him, ignored—a harmless piece on his endless game. Even the men seemed hypnotized by him, something like hunger or jealousy clouding their eyes. How could they be so blind?
King Maximus turned slightly toward Talyssa and introduced her. She curtsied.
“So lovely.”
“Such beautiful, golden hair.”
“Oh, she shines like a star.”
The crowd seemed in awe of her, taken by her beauty, but most of all, envious of her place next to the King.
A knot formed in my throat. It was rage and incredulity combined, hatred toward the frivolous nobles who cared only for appearances, for the King’s favor to help increase their riches, for the possibility of tasting his blood to become strong, faster, more vital, long-lived.
The music picked up again as the King sat on his throne, while Talyssa retreated to stand a few steps behind him. Poor creature. She cared for Timotei. She’d helped him when I tried to rescue him, had even attacked Ungur when he tried to hold my brother back. Had she paid for that? Had the King punished her?
Couples took to the dance floor once more, moving more exuberantly than before, repeatedly glancing toward the King to see if he noticed them.
Next to me, Bianca’s body seemed to quake. Her jaw was set, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She drew blood, one single drop that beaded up into a perfect red pearl.
On the dais, the King’s head jerked, his attention drawn immediately to Bianca. She should have cowered, should have glanced down to avoid provoking his scrutiny. Instead, she held his gaze and, shaking with rage, took a step toward him.